


The Demons Below Affair

by CynthiaK2014



Series: Man from Uncle [4]
Category: Beauty and the Beast (TV 1987), The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 08:04:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3970285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynthiaK2014/pseuds/CynthiaK2014
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crossover with my very first fandom, Beauty and the Beast with Linda Hamilton and Ron Perlman.  My ending for them is very different than the shows writers.  And I have no idea how many parts this will be but at least six.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Demons, part 1

“Excuse me, Dr. Kuryakin. Could I speak with you a moment?” A hesitant voice came from the doorway to the Green Lab.

Illya looked up from the computer green-bar sheets that detailed the results from the experiments that THRUSH had been conducting a month before. He still tired before the end of the workday but he’d been back in the lab for three days and felt more focused. Finally. He found the information from the lab fascinating and it took him a minute to come back to the worried face of the blond woman hovering in the doorway.

“Miss . . . Chandler?” His memory caught up with her face.

“Yes, Sir. I wondered if I could speak with you?” She took two steps into the lab, clutching a cardboard box under one arm.

“Please come in and have a seat.” Illya gestured to the chair beside his desk. “I am glad to take a break from reading these reports.” 

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” She sat down with the box in her lap. “I need your advice and perhaps your scientific expertise.”

“You may have both.” Illya had a soft spot for the quiet attorney who had come to work for UNCLE three months before. She hadn’t even noticed Napoleon’s flirtatious airs and was a steady worker who took each case personally. 

“Some children I know were playing near Central Park.” Her eyes dropped to the box in her lap. “While they were hiding from the youngster who was ‘it’, they saw two men open a man hole cover and lower a box into the hole, jiggle it and draw it up. Empty.”

“Did they find out what had been in the box?” Illya removed his glasses and laid them on his desk.

Her jaw went tight. “Yes. There were two black rats. These are city kids and they know that rats are a fact of life in that neighborhood. So being the curious little boys that they are, they found the rats and caught them.” She set the box on his desk. “I thought perhaps you could tell me why they were dumped so secretly.”

Illya blinked and removed the lid of the cardboard box. Sure enough, there were two black rats. His thoughts flashed back to the lab where he’d been shot. The rats they’d found there had also been black and just as sleek. Could these be part of those experiments? After all these weeks? 

“Well, let’s take a look.” He stood, put his glasses back on and brought the box to the lab table. Pulling on a pair of latex gloves, he removed one of the rats and laid it out on a clean mat. Ruffling the fur, he spotted a flea and quickly upended a petri dish over it when it jumped off.

Miss Chandler shuddered and stepped back. “I appreciate you looking into this for me. I have a conference right now. Could I stop by tomorrow morning and find out what you’ve discovered?”

Illya nodded absentmindedly, intrigued by several sores he found under the fur. “Perhaps a little later. I’ll want to make some cultures and they’ll take time to mature.”

“Thank you, Dr. Kuryakin.” And her heels tapped their way out of the lab.

Illya worked for an hour, dissecting and preparing slides of paper-thin tissues. Even the flea got his own slide. Labeling each one, he slid the rest of the remains into the lab refrigerator and prepared to write up his notes. A cough from the doorway brought his head up to see Napoleon lounging there.

“Well, Illyusha, how are you feeling?”

“Come in, Pasha. I’ve got some notes to finish up.” He went back to writing. “And I’m feeling fine. A little tired maybe but I’ve an intriguing project and it has infused new life into me.”

“Hey, I’m the only one who gets to ‘infuse’ you, love.” Napoleon sat on one hip on the edge of the desk and Illya caught a brief glimpse of his pout.

Hiding his smile, he kept on writing. “Of course you are, Pasha but there’s just something about these rats that’s intriguing.”

“Rats? You’re comparing me to rats, Illya?”

He looked up and could no longer keep his grin hidden. “No, you did that, Pasha. I just said my experiments were interesting.”

The pout was back and completely irresistible. “Illya, I am deeply hurt.” He sighed theatrically. “But there is something incredibly sexy about those hideous glasses of yours and I’m willing to forgive you if you’ll wear them tonight in bed.”

Illya laughed out loud and put down his pen. “Just for you, Napasha, I will wear them. Now, give me just a few more minutes and I shall be ready to go home.”

Napoleon sighed again before standing and heading out of the lab. “Ten minutes, Illya. I’ll be waiting at the checkpoint.”

Illya smiled and finished his working notes. Taking off his lab coat and hanging it over the back of his chair, he remembered to unclip his communicator and put it in his breast pocket along with the glasses that so intrigued his partner. Tidying away the paperwork, he locked his desk and posted a notice on the refrigerator – warning others to leave the dead rats alone. 

And he still had two minutes left to walk down to the checkpoint. Napoleon was waiting for him with an exaggerated look at his watch and a quip about the early bird. But Illya simply smiled and went through the door first. That brought a squawk of ‘how dare you go first when I was ahead of you’ by the right-on-his-heels lover. It was an old joke that stayed fresh even after five years.

Almost six, Illya reminded himself. Perhaps they could do something special for the anniversary of their partnership he mused. Napoleon was driving and he sat back to watch his partner maneuver through the heavy traffic, grousing all the way about the other drivers and their idiot cars. He let the familiar dialog pass on by while he listened to the rich tones of the voice that he loved above all others.

Perhaps tonight Napoleon would read to him before they made love. He could feel the smile rise and curve his lips upward. Or better yet, perhaps he would just read his lover’s body with fingers and tongue while that voice moaned beneath him.

“Illya, what are you thinking about? You haven’t heard a word I’ve said for the last five minutes.”

He can even put a pout into his words. Illya chuckled and sent his lover a flirtatious look from under his lashes. “Perhaps I shall tell you later, Pasha. Or maybe I’ll just show you?”

Napoleon groaned and moved the car sharply to the right into a dingy alley. “Do not tease me, Illyusha when I’m driving. It makes me do crazy things.” They drove through the narrow space, dodging ash cans on the right and left. “Not to mention what it does to my body. The neighbors will see my bulging crotch and think I’m some kind of sex pervert.”

Illya dared to reach over and stroke the promising bulge at his lover’s groin. He suddenly realized that he’d never made love in a car before. “How very un-American my conduct has been, Napoleon.” Deftly, he unzipped the dark brown trousers and slid his hand into the small opening. “Isn’t it a tradition for lovers to . . . I believe it’s called ‘make out’ in the car?”

“Illya!” Napoleon practically stood on the brake while he turned wild eyes to his lover. “What are you doing?”

“Goodness, Pasha, how quickly you forget.” Illya smiled sweetly and dove down to the tempting cock peeking out of the white cotton boxers. Napoleon’s flesh swelled in his mouth and he sucked strongly before delicately cat-licking around the flared crown. Moans were his only answer while he took the enlarging organ deep.

Napoleon’s hands carded tremulously through his hair and Illya felt himself purr at the feeling of control that gave him. He’d finally succeeded in surprising his more worldly lover. Humming around the salty flesh, he sucked again. Napoleon swelled larger and he felt the hips try to thrust up but the steering wheel was in the way. It was awkward and clandestine and . . . 

Fun.

A warning hand tugged on his hair but he just sucked harder, drinking down Napoleon’s climax like his favorite plum wine. Slowly, he mouthed up the shrunken shaft, giving it a final lick before sitting up to face his lover with a grin.

“So, Napoleon, how is my . . . spontaneity coming?” He lovingly tucked the limp organ back inside.

His only answer was a long arm drawing him into a fervent kiss that threatened to suck his tongue right out of his mouth. Moments of serious tongue fucking commenced and he could feel himself harden painfully. But when their lips gentled, he told his body to wait just a little bit longer.

“Inspired, Illyusha. That’s what I think of your spontaneity.” Napoleon rested his forehead against Illya’s. “And one of these days, I’ll introduce you to the joys of ‘making out in the back seat’. It’s one of those old American customs you really should experience at least once in your life before our backs get so creaky, we can’t manage it.”

“I look forward to it, Napoleon. But perhaps we could choose a . . . prettier setting?” Illya gazed at the towering walls of grimy brick that rose around them.

Napoleon zipped himself up gingerly and put the car into motion again. “I will never be able to drive through this alley again without getting hard. Oh, Illyusha, the things you get me into. And I promise you a much prettier setting.”

“Then I am content, Pasha.” Illya rested his head against the seat rest as they approached the side street that was a short cut to the brownstone.

“Tired?” Napoleon risked a quick look at him before merging them back into the somewhat sparse traffic. “How about a nice dinner, a hot bath and a massage?”

“Wonderful. You take good care of me, Pasha.” Illya smiled at him and watched the slow smile blossom on his lover’s face.

“No better care than you take of me, Illyusha. I can also take care of that . . . swelling when we get home.” A sly glance made him laugh.

“Dr. Solo . . . one of your very best roles.” Illya teased him while keeping an eye out for a parking space. “There, Pasha, there’s one three cars down.”

“Got it.” Napoleon concentrated on beating out a Peugeot that had delusions of parking.

Leaving the car, they debated what to have for dinner while they climbed the front steps. But Mark was there with April and they ended up going to the Italian restaurant on the corner. The conversation was good and Illya found himself holding up his end of the talk with more ease than ever before. Musing on his relaxation with them, he realized that he counted them among his friends, a group that was slowly growing.

They sat in the living room and continued to talk about the lull in THRUSH activities. April was hopeful that it would be an ongoing process. Mark just shook his head and bet her that within the month they’d be busy again. She stuck out her tongue at him, making them all laugh. Eventually, April stretched and talked Mark into walking her home, saying good night to Illya and Napoleon. 

Once alone, Illya eyed his lover teasingly. “I believe I was promised a hot bath and a massage. But perhaps you’re too tired?”

“Never too tired for you, love.” Napoleon stood and held out his hand. “Let’s go to bed and . . . explore the possibilities.”

Illya sighed contentedly and let himself be pulled off the sofa and up the stairs. “This experimental bent of yours is intriguing. What else do you have in mind?”

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out.” The smug reply came over a shoulder. And Illya laughed, preparing himself for a tender evening of love.


	2. Demons, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catherine and Vincent talk about what Illya found in the rats. Vincent's POV

Vincent hesitated the way he always did when he approached the underground entrance to Catherine’s new home. Part of him could not believe that he would be welcome while the rest of him embraced the idea, with a passion he only now felt he could show. A happy glow filled their bond and he was warmed by her happiness, hurrying his steps to the old wooden door that opened into the unused basement.

“Vincent!” Her voice welcomed him and he held out his arms for the hug he knew was coming.

For long moments, he hugged her close, enjoying her clean, fresh scent. She was a delight for all his senses and he felt her lips against the pulse in his throat. Shivering at the unexpected touch, he rested his cheek on her silky hair. “How was your day, Catherine?”

“Long and partly boring.” The soft murmur sighed. “But I gave the rats to the scientist I told you about.”

“The Russian?”

“Un-uh, Illya Kuryakin. He’s only been back a week or so after recovering from a gunshot wound. His nickname is the Ice Prince among some of the others but I think he’s just very shy.” She pulled away just a little and looked up with a smile. “April told me that he was orphaned at a very young age and raised in one of the gulags in Siberia. That might make anyone a little unsure of others.”

“But you trust him?” Vincent was still uncomfortable with some of the people with whom she now worked.

She thought for a moment before nodding decisively. “Yes, I think I do. He doesn’t flirt with me like his charming partner does. And he always looks so surprised when someone compliments him as if he wasn’t used to being praised. Illya reminds me of you, really.”

“In a good way, I hope.” Vincent returned her smile.

“Always, love.” Coming up onto her tiptoes, she brushed a kiss over his cheek. “Now, come upstairs and help me cook dinner. You can stay, can’t you?”

“Yes, although I don’t know how much help I will be.” Vincent let himself be tugged towards the stairs.

“You get the pleasure of mincing the vegetables while I brown the meat and onions. It’s stew tonight since that’s one of the only things I really know how to cook.” She laughed down into his face from two steps up. “But then you knew that.”

He shook his head ruefully, remembering her last attempt at making omelets. He hadn’t known that eggs could get that black and burned. “This sounds like something that we can both enjoy. Lead me to your vegetables.”

At the top of the stairs, she took his cloak from him and frowned at him until he removed his heavy vest as well. The room was warm enough he didn’t need them but each layer shed left him feeling more and more vulnerable. But she pretended not to notice his disquiet, tying a simple white apron around his waist and handing him a knife.

They worked in contented silence until Vincent had chopped up all the carrots, potatoes and cabbage. The smell of lightly sizzling hamburger and crisp onion filled the room. A can of pinto beans went into the large pot then all the vegetables and enough water to fill the pot. He watched Catherine ponder the spice rack with a little frown on her forehead.

Her hair was slightly disarrayed where one hand had pushed her bangs back. Her hand hovered between two jars in the old wooden rack on the wall by the refrigerator then with a quick sigh, she pulled them both off along with a third. He watched her throw in a pinch of basil, another of thyme and finished up by crumpling in a bay leaf.

“There!” She put the lid on and turned the rapidly boiling stew down to a simmer. “We’ve got about an hour and a half until we can eat. I’ve got a movie that I think you’ll like. Come on into the den.”

Taking her hand, Vincent followed her into the rather dark room in the middle of the first floor of the brownstone. It was the farthest from the tunnel entrance that he had been in her new home and it still made him feel a little uncertain. But the joy on her face was worth any small danger to him. 

“This is a classic, Vincent. I must have watched it a hundred times and it still makes me cry at the end.” She slipped the medium sized black cassette into a machine beneath the TV before turning them on and coming back to sit. Curling up beside him on the sofa, she snuggled into his side and pointed the remote control at the machine.

“Is it very sad, Catherine?” He could not understand watching something that made you cry.

“Yes and no. The ending just appeals to the romantic in me. After I met you, I thought maybe we’d be like them but we chose differently. Thank God.” She tightened her hold on his shirt and tried to get closer. “I am eternally grateful that you let me in.”

“It was the only option that would leave me my sanity.” Vincent dared to nuzzle a kiss into the shiny hair at his shoulder. “Anything else was unthinkable. Even Father finally had to agree.”

“There’s still a battle isn’t there, Vincent?” Her sigh was almost too faint to hear.

“Small skirmishes, perhaps. At the moment, Mary’s behavior has him so confused that all his energy is focused elsewhere.” Vincent couldn’t help a little chuckle at the disconcerting overturning of several customs below.

“Sh-h-h, tell me over dinner. The movie is starting.” 

And he watched the black and white movie called ‘Casablanca’ begin.

********************** 

He was washing up after a long day of moving rock from the six new chambers when the first trickle of unease filtered through their bond. Tilting his head, he tried to catch what shape the fear might be taking but it stayed silent. Then a clear picture of a telephone was sent to his mind.

The telepathy between them was increasing as their physical relationship progressed. He finished washing and pulled a clean shirt from his wardrobe. Tucking the tails into his work pants, he decided to make the trip Above without his customary layers. Leaving his room, he almost ran into Mary.

“Going Above, Vincent?” She asked him sweetly.

“Yes, Catherine needs me. Is there something I can do for you Above?” He hesitated at the slow smile that blossomed across her face.

“Thank you, Vincent. If you could give her this note for me, I’d very much appreciate it. She and I have a little project that’s progressing quite nicely.” Handing him a small envelope, she patted his cheek and went off down the tunnel humming a tune that Vincent didn’t know.

Smiling a little, he hurried on to the short tunnel that led up to Catherine’s brownstone. Using his advanced hearing, he made sure that the brownstone was empty before entering and mounting the stairs. In the kitchen, he took a deep breath and picked up the phone, carefully dialing the number at UNCLE that Catherine had given him. The sexless operator asked for an extension and he gave her the four digits. In another moment, he heard Catherine’s voice.

“Chandler.”

“Catherine. I need you to bring home some milk.” He used their code phrase.

“Hi, Vincent. I’m going to be a little late this evening. I have to show Dr. Kuryakin where the kids were playing.”

She sounded a little tense to him and he thought about the culvert where they’d found the rats. “That’s all right, Catherine. The stew will keep until you get home. Is everything all right?”

“I’m not very happy about what the good doctor found inside the rats but I’ll tell you about it after dinner. Do we have bread or should I stop at the bakery?”

“I’m baking rolls. All we need is milk.” He decided to check the fridge for the crescent rolls that she enjoyed and usually kept on hand. 

“You’re an angel, Vincent. I love you.”

He hesitated, wondering if someone might be listening in then threw caution to the wind. “I love you too, Catherine. Hurry home.”

“Bye, love. See you soon.”

“Goodbye, Catherine.” He heard the click on the other end and hung up the receiver. Looking around the brightly painted kitchen, he decided to set the table and get the rolls ready for the oven.

An hour later, she rushed through the front door and threw herself into his arms. “Hold me, Vincent.”

He hugged her tight, his hand stroking the golden hair. “I’m here, Catherine. It will be all right.”

“It’s horrible.” Her voice was muffled in his shirt. “The rats were infected with some kind of bacteria. Illya called it . . . enteritis or something like that. It’s some kind of bacterium that’s highly contagious and often fatal to humans. And they were sent down to the tunnels on purpose.”

Vincent shivered and held her tighter. “You took Dr. Kuryakin to the culvert?”

She nodded and pulled back enough to look up at him. “UNCLE will be out in force tomorrow so we’ll need to call a Silence for the time that outsiders are in the outer tunnels. Father will probably blame me.”

“Hush, Catherine. You saved us from another epidemic. He will be grateful.”

“Maybe.” She noticed the table settings and smiled up at him. “Let’s eat dinner before we go Below. I need some fortification before talking to the Council.”

“Agreed. The rolls will take ten minutes to bake so you have time to change clothes and shed the office.” 

“I do love you, Vincent.” And standing on tiptoe, she kissed him gently before leaving the room.

He cataloged all the sensations of her lips on his before shaking himself out of the reverie that kissing her always produced. Each one was different and special, not something he ever thought to experience. Putting in the rolls, he turned up the heat on the stew and brought the bowls over to the counter for filling.

“Okay, I feel better. You were right. Did Mary by any chance send up something for me?” She pulled the iced tea from the fridge and poured them both a glass.

“Yes, indeed.” He patted his pockets and handed her the envelope. Watching her from the corner of his eye, he pondered her almost feline smile.

“I’m looking forward to this visit.” She tucked the note into her jeans pocket. “You’re an angel to have dinner ready. Let’s eat so we can get Below.”

They ate while planning the strategy of keeping the underground community safe from the searchers. She broached the possibility of letting the Russian doctor in on their secret but he shook his head, knowing what Father would say. She accepted his belief but he could see that she had reservations.

Finishing the kitchen clean up, Catherine got a jacket and they headed for the confrontation Below.


	3. Demons, part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team go below and Illya senses someone watching.

Illya shook his head at the dark damp tunnel that stretched before the search crews. The cool air had a clammy feel that made him shiver beneath his lab coat, long padded gloves and breathing mask. It was a bad day for rats in this part of the city. He felt another presence like a ghost watching their every move. He tried to ignore it but the feeling wouldn’t go away and he surreptitiously looked around in the dark corners unlit by their flashlights. 

Who ever it might be was very good.

Putting the feeling in the back of his mind, he focused on their catch so far. Sixteen rats, a ferret and a dead rabbit that looked like it had died hard. He grimaced but kept on shining his light into the nooks and crannies. He didn’t want to come back here. However, he had a hunch that he might have to repeat this exercise in the near future. If not here, he sighed then in a similar tunnel or sewer.

“Join UNCLE and tour the slime pits of the world.” He muttered under his breath. “Right under our feet.”

The shrill beep of his communicator interrupted him and he pulled it out awkwardly to answer with a terse, “Yes.”

Static was his only answer. He didn’t want to think about how much dirt and concrete was above his head. He’d never been claustrophobic before but he thought he might make an exception in this case. Shivering, he sounded the retreat. They hadn’t found anything in the last ten minutes and the tunnel was narrowing.

Once back out in the sun, he felt himself relax while the others loaded the cages into the back of the paneled van. Removing the face shield and heavy leather gloves helped. Tuning his communicator to headquarters, he called in. There was a pause then Napoleon’s voice came through loud and clear.

“Did you find any more?”

“Perhaps. Only the lab will know for sure. We’ll be back in about fifteen minutes.”

“Good. Mr. Waverly would appreciate a quick but thorough examination.”

“Which he will get in due course. Kuryakin out.” He sniffed in a moment of pique and got in the van with the others. When had he ever been slow? Or too hasty for that matter? You couldn’t hurry this kind of testing, especially when you had to wear layers of protective gear to keep from contaminating yourself or others. He shuddered at the thought of this disease getting out into the general populace.

It was a killer and not a pleasant one. The deaths would be hard and messy; spreading the disease even faster as it mutated within their human hosts. THRUSH had cooked up a devil’s brew this time. For a moment he pondered the possible reasons why they might have continued to work on such a disease but he couldn’t picture any result but death and more death.

Unless there was a vaccine or cure they didn’t know about.

He would need to talk to the boys who’d found them or have one of the others do it. Illya admitted to himself that children baffled him. April would be much the better interrogator since she and Miss Chandler could talk to them together. He would suggest it on their return. They were still a few blocks out and when his communicator chirped again, he sighed and answered.

“Kuryakin.”

“Slight change in destination. Uncle Alex has authorized the opening of Base four for the duration of these experiments.” Napoleon’s voice was apologetic.

“Agreed. Kuryakin out.” He nodded to the driver beside him and they turned right to head outside the city. “How long, Peters?”

“Twenty minutes in this traffic.” The young agent flashed Illya a smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t rock the evidence.”

Illya chuckled. “I have no fear of that, Peters. You are a very good driver.”

The black haired man gave him a pleased look and another beaming smile. Illya wondered if his compliments were that rare. He’d been practicing his people skills but that response seemed all out of proportion to the comment. Pondering the reaction, he listened with half an ear to the story of how the young man had learned to drive on his uncle’s dirt racetrack down in rural Tennessee.

Those big blue eyes were so often turned to him that Illya rather feared for anyone who might get in the way of the big van but the driver was as good as he said he was. The traffic was still light enough not to cause any problems. And it was rather refreshing not to have to be so correct. Perhaps I am ‘loosening up’, as Napoleon would say?

That made him smile and seemed to redouble Peters’ story telling. How very odd. I must ask Napoleon what he thinks. He checked the side mirror to make sure that the other agents had followed them and saw the dark blue Chevy Nova close on their tail. Ahead stood the shabby warehouse that housed their quarantine lab. He wondered if anyone had come to turn everything on like the electricity and air conditioning. Someone would have to be here to unlock the door for them.

The metal door slid to one side when Peters pulled up and lightly honked the horn. They pulled in far enough for their tail to follow and when Illya stepped out of the van, he saw Napoleon closing the door behind them. He was impeccably dressed as always in Illya’s favorite brown suit. But Illya could have sworn that he’d been wearing his black herringbone tweed when they left home this morning.

However, they were too busy at the moment for him to take the time to question him. Their arrival precipitated a frenzy of activity that only ended with each animal in its own cage and the computers set up for data entry. Peters seemed to have designated himself Illya’s assistant and stayed at his side like a persistent shadow.

Illya rather enjoyed teaching when the student wanted to learn so he explained what he was doing rather than just silently working. Peters listened intently, asked good questions and absorbed the scene like a sponge. When the last rat had been prepared, Illya sat back and removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose and flexing his shoulders from their hunched position.

“What is the verdict?” Napoleon’s voice surprised him.

“We won’t know for about 24 hours. Some of the cultures will need to grow and the rats that still live will have to be watched to see what symptoms appear.” He leaned back against the chair and raised his eyes to Napoleon’s. The frown there was a little surprising. “I’m sorry but science doesn’t come with a fast-forward button.”

The frown dissolved into his normal grin. “I knew that getting that video player was a mistake.”

“That’s only because April made you watch ‘The Women’s Room’ after you made her watch ‘The Guns of Navarone’.” Illya gently chided him. 

The pout was small but there and Illya suddenly had the urge to kiss it away. To cover his inappropriate contemplation, he dropped his eyes and signed his name one more time on the last rat. Peters was there to take the papers for filing and their hands brushed against each other. The young agent blushed and stammered an apology that Illya waved away with a smile.

“Illya, we should probably be on our way.” Napoleon’s frown was back. “Security is set up here and you’ve already admitted that the experiments can’t be hurried.”

He thought a moment, running over all the parameters set in place before nodding and getting up from the desk. “Peters, if you would remain and make sure the animals are fed and watered, I’d appreciate it.”

“Oh yes, Sir.” The young man smiled and nodded eagerly. 

“Keep track of their temperature but make very sure they don’t have a chance to bite anyone.”

“I’ll be careful, Dr. Kuryakin. I promise.” He smiled shyly, holding the paperwork to his chest.

“I know you will, Sean.” Illya returned the smile and patted his shoulder. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night, Sirs.” The farewell was divided between them.

Illya exchanged good byes with the others and walked out with an unnaturally quiet Napoleon. Silence filled the car and he watched his lover, perplexed at his frown and his almost haphazard driving. “Is there something wrong, Napasha?”

Napoleon started and cast a quick look at him. “When we get home, Illya, I’ll tell you then.”

“Then we’re not going back to headquarters?”

“Mr. Waverly told me to sign you out and take you home.”

“Oh, good. That underground tunnel was nasty in the extreme and I want a long, hot bath. It was the oddest feeling down there.” He hesitated but Napoleon made an encouraging sound for him to continue. “I felt as if someone was watching us. From the moment we set foot inside the culvert, all the way down that noisome corridor and to the end of our search, that little prickle at the back of my neck remained.”

“Sure it wasn’t young Peters?”

Illya looked over at him. “Of course not. He was ahead of me on the other side.”

“Hm-m-m. I’m surprised he wasn’t right on your heels.”

“Why?”

“Oh, love, you are without a doubt the most innocent person I know. Peters has a king sized crush on you.”

“Nonsense, Pasha. He’s just a young man intent on his career.”

“Wrong, my naïve love. He’s head over heels in lust or love with you.” Napoleon smiled tenderly at him. “I say it as one who knows, Illyusha. You are a love magnet at UNCLE although I do my best to distract them.”

Illya laughed out loud. “That’s just silly, Pasha. They don’t even see me when you’re in the room.”

“Not necessarily, love. Sean Peters has eyes only for you. I’m betting that he won’t be washing that shoulder where you patted him for quite some time.” Napoleon parked them in front of the brownstone. “I can’t even be jealous because I know exactly how he feels. But you come home with me so I can afford to be generous.”

“You’re not kidding, are you?” Illya wondered if he looked as flabbergasted as he felt.

“Come inside and I’ll take care of that bath wish you had.” Napoleon slid across the bench seat and opened Illya’s door, nudging him out of the car before following him onto the sidewalk.

Illya frowned and thought back over the afternoon. They’d all been a little nervous after his warnings about the potential of the disease. Perhaps they had stayed a little closer than for a usual sweep, but Sean had been at least three feet away from him the entire time. With a start, Illya found himself in the upstairs bathroom.

“Are you sure, Pasha?” He asked the man unbuttoning his jacket.

“Quite sure, love. Along with three women and at least one other man, you’re the fantasy du jour.” Napoleon leaned in to kiss him and for a long moment, Illya forgot everything but the warm lips on his.

Then his jacket hit the tile floor and fingers slid his buttons open easily. Finally, he began to return the favor, stripping his partner almost as quickly as he was undressed. Pulling back just far enough so he could see Napoleon’s eyes, he asked the question he’d been wondering about since the warehouse.

“Why are you in this suit when I watched you dress in black this morning?”

Napoleon’s grimace was rueful. “Mary Lou upended her ice tea on my lap when I told her I had to cancel our date.”

Illya snickered while he turned the faucets on full blast. “She is a very determined woman, Napasha. You might as well get it over with.”

“I can’t understand it. I’ve stood her up four times already but she keeps coming back for more.” Napoleon said resignedly. “She’s practically a force of nature. Not like little Sean. You’re probably his first male crush.”

Illya paused before getting into the tub. “But why, Pasha? I know my nickname and the feelings behind it. He must as well.”

Napoleon settled in at the far end and tugged him in to settle between his legs. “Well, I wasn’t going to tell you but I’m afraid the Ice Prince has melted and turned into the Sun King.”

“What?” Illya rested his head back on a comfortable shoulder and turned so he could watch his lover’s face. The green water lapped about them and the heat began to relax him.

“Since we became lovers, you’ve become more approachable.” Napoleon ran soapy hands slowly over Illya’s chest, gently circling the hardening nipples. “I’ve watched them watch you and felt unbearably smug that you chose me. Never let me take you for granted, Illyusha.”

Illya let his lips brush the pulse in Napoleon’s throat. “You don’t, Pasha and if you ever do then I will know that you have tired of me.”

“Never.” Napoleon’s arms tightened around him and warm lips nuzzled under his ear. “I promised you forever and I won’t accept anything less.”

“I do love you, Pasha. The others are merely acquaintances with whom we work. I must admit to enjoying smiles rather than frowns when they see me.” Illya caught the soap and lathered his hands so he could run them up and down the long leg at his side.

“You deserve the smiles, Illya. The science labs have never run so smoothly since I’ve been a part of UNCLE.” 

Teeth tenderly nipped at Illya’s ear and he just barely kept a chuckle under control. “It probably helps that our work has slowed a bit. Although, this problem may have long ranging effects.”

“We won’t know for a while so can we leave the problems in the lab for tonight?”

Illya turned his head just far enough to see the pout he could hear in Napoleon’s voice. “But what ever would we talk about, Pasha?”

A kiss was his only answer, that and the soapy hand that gloved his cock slowly up and down. Arching into the knowing grip, Illya wiggled over the growing length behind him. This was what had kept him going while they tramped through the dank tunnels, looking for plague-carrying rats. This love that wrapped his heart with warmth and joy was always his.

Soon the tub grew too restrictive and they separated enough to finishing washing. They toweled each other dry and Napoleon told him they had a surprise for dinner. Dressing casually in shorts and t-shirts, they moved down to the kitchen and Napoleon’s surprise. The pasta salad had all of Illya’s favorite vegetables and shredded chicken cooked just the way he liked it. Giving the cook a kiss, he loaded their plates with salad and fresh rolls from the bakery down the street.

Then, with Napoleon taking the thermos of iced tea, a bucket of ice and a pair of glasses, they moved to their first picnic spot on the roof. The cool breeze stirred their hair and for the first time that day, Illya relaxed completely and let go of the strange feelings from the culvert. This was their time and he was prepared to enjoy every moment.

Tomorrow would be soon enough to worry about what THRUSH was up to.


	4. Demons, part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team from Uncle meet Vincent. Vincent POV

Vincent waited for a count of ten, stretching his hearing to the first floor and above in Catherine’s home. No one had yet arrived so he motioned to Skeeter and Joey to go on up the outside entrance a block away and sit on the front steps. The scientist from UNCLE wanted to talk with them about their finding of the first two rats. They had another pair that had just been captured in sector twelve and he hoped that Dr. Kuryakin found nothing wrong with them.

However, he feared the worst.

Still not hearing anything, he mounted the basement steps and headed for the study and the two-way mirror that Catherine had installed. On the living room side, it hung above the fireplace but in the study, it was set into the wall between the floor to ceiling bookcases. A vent in the wall allowed him to hear and the mirror to see all that went on in the front room.

And he had a clear exit to the basement through the kitchen if danger threatened.

The opening of the front door caught him in mid-thought and he tensed only to relax at the sweet laughter from his Catherine as the boys told her an old joke they’d just heard. Someone else’s laughter joined hers and he wondered if it was the April Dancer that she’d mentioned before. But a moment later, he saw all four of them enter the living room.

Feasting his eyes on Catherine, he contrasted the two women, one so blond and petite with the other tall and dark. They were both graceful but Miss Dancer moved like her name. Her face was bright and vivacious, her voice mellow. But his ear was drawn to Catherine’s husky tones and his eyes to her beautiful gaze. She was looking straight into the mirror as if she could feel his presence the way he always did hers.

Perhaps the bond was beginning to work both ways?

Another knock at the door and Vincent tensed again. This would be the Doctor and his partner, the one Catherine said flirted with her. He watched through the glass as the two entered the same contrast between them as there was between Catherine and April. Light and dark, solemn and laughing, such interesting contradictions that had led to a team that Catherine called the best that UNCLE had.

Then the slight blond smiled shyly at April’s teasing and Vincent saw what Catherine had seen. He was hesitant while his partner was bold. Quiet while Napoleon Solo was talkative. But there was intelligence in both the strong faces and he found himself watching them instead of the others. There was something between them like the bond he and Catherine shared.

They finished each other’s sentences and asked the same question differently to gauge the succeeding answers. The scientist came to the fore when the boys brought out the box with the new dead rats the sentry had found near the entrance to sector twelve. The three of them bent over the box and the doctor put on a pair of black framed glasses while April and Mr. Solo exchanged a grin that told Vincent that they were used to Dr. Kuryakin’s scientist persona.

“I’ll need to take them back to the lab for tests but see the sores just under the chin, here and here.” The scientist had drawn on a pair of latex gloves and stopped the boys from touching the rats again. “Did you pick them up with your bare hands?”

Joey shook his dark head vigorously and Skeeter answered. “Nope. Catherine said to be careful if we found more so we just found some newspaper and picked them up with that. Then after we put them in the box, we put the paper in the trash. Was that okay?”

The smile was back, the one that Vincent was drawn to. “That was very much all right. You have the scientific bent. Thank you for bringing them so promptly to Miss Chandler. If there are any others found, please send word to her right away. So far, my tests have found several very nasty diseases have been incubated within them. Do you know what incubated means?”

Joey nodded and ventured an answer. “They inject them with a germ or a bac-bact-rea and the hot insides cooked them into a disease.”

Dr. Kuryakin smiled gently. “Bacteria, Joey. And that is an excellent description of what incubating a disease is. Your teachers should be very proud of you. The problem is that the disease can be transmitted through touch and in some cases by saliva or even the very air we breathe.”

“Saliva is like spit, right?” Skeeter asked.

The scientist nodded. “Exactly, Skeeter. And sometimes, you don’t know it’s there after it’s dried but it can still be dangerous. You might want to find another place to play for awhile until we can figure out why these rats are showing up near here.”

The two little boys immediately looked at Catherine and she gathered them into her arms in a gentle hug. “Not to worry, guys. We’re going to find out why real soon. Now, how about we go out to the kitchen and get some cookies for you to take home.”

The dark haired agent didn’t begin to pace until the three of them left the room. “Damn it, Illya. They’re just the same as the others. What the hell is THRUSH thinking to keep releasing them in neighborhoods like this?”

April was perched on the arm of the winged chair where Dr. Kuryakin was sitting. “We don’t know for sure where they are being found. Catherine’s been pretty cagey about where the boys play.”

“There is something they are all three hiding.” The scientist was leaning back against the chair, his eyes closed and his skin pale.

Vincent saw the glance shared between the two dark haired agents before April dropped a kiss on the fair hair and got up to leave for the kitchen. He tensed as he realized that his escape route was cut off momentarily then calmed. Catherine wouldn’t allow that to last very long.

“Illyusha, is the headache back again?” Solo was seated on the coffee table his hands peeling the latex gloves off his partner’s hands and throwing them into the box with the rats.

“A little, Pasha. Don’t be such a worry-wart.” His smile was affectionate. 

“Nonsense, I’m just making sure that nothing interferes with our quiet evening at home.” Solo was rubbing one of Illya’s with both of his. “Your hands are like ice.”

“At least it’s not my feet this time.” 

The teasing note was one that Vincent heard quite often from Catherine and he wondered what feeling lay beneath the common place words. He watched curiously while the two men gazed at each other. He’d never seen such emotions between two men before. But when Solo kissed the hand he was holding before letting it go and warming the other one, Vincent realized that he was seeing something rare that he should have never witnessed.

Dropping his eyes, he listened to the two boys leaving with their cookies while Catherine said goodbye. The sound of clinking cups told him that tea preparations were underway and soon he’d need to be on his way. But he wanted to know what the other agents thought so he risked a glance back through the mirror in time to see the dark senior agent lightly kiss the scientist on the lips before taking April’s place on the chair arm.

Vincent sighed soundlessly and wondered if they had as much trouble being together as he and Catherine had? He wished wistfully that he could be open with his Catherine, sit down to tea with these new friends of her and sit with his hand on her shoulder the way Solo had done with the doctor.

“Here we go, gentlemen. I made the cookies myself but don’t let that put you off trying them. No matter what April says, I have gotten better over time.” Catherine stuck out her tongue at the laughing agent.

“I would never dare denigrate someone who cooks. Illya cooks best in our kitchen.” Solo wagged his finger at April before accepting a cup of tea. 

“Ah, but that’s not what you said last night.” Dr. Kuryakin’s side way’s glance was one that Vincent recognized from Catherine’s gentle teasing.

April broke into infectious peals of laughter while Solo paused with teacup in air, a surprised look on his face. Catherine was giggling now as well and when Illya smiled sweetly and took the cup out of his partner’s hand, Vincent was hard pressed to keep his own mirth silent. 

“Catherine, if I may be so bold,” the doctor asked permission to use her name and took the wave of her hand as a yes, “don’t you think it’s time that our watcher joined us for this discussion?”

The silence was deafening and Vincent held his breath, watching the blue eyed gaze come to his through the opaque mirror. How could he have known?

“I felt something down below where we found other rats. The old records in the City of New York Historical Society’s special collections show a series of underground tunnels but there are no schematics or even a drawing or two that might show where they are. There was one watcher maybe more when we invaded with our bright lights and collection boxes.” He spoke gently but authoritatively and his gaze never left Vincent’s even though he knew that he could not be seen.

Catherine was on her feet and at the doorway that led to the kitchen but her eyes remained on the agents. Raising her voice slightly, she spoke up. “Vincent, it’s up to you. I think we can trust them and they need to know what faces them. And we need to know if we’re being targeted.”

Vincent was caught on the horns of a dilemma that immobilized him. Stay or flee. There was something in those steady blue eyes, compassion perhaps or maybe the knowledge of what it was like to be different that made him want to stay. Father’s teachings told him to leave right now. But Catherine’s steady belief in him softened that response with the desire to be a part of this team of individuals who was working to save his world even though they didn’t know it.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped out of one door and into the hall that would bring him to the entrance Catherine guarded. Standing behind her, he gently laid his hands on her shoulders and watched the agent’s reactions. April’s eyes were wide and her lips shaped a perfect ‘o’. Solo’s gaze was sharp and cold, his eyes squinting slightly as if determined to examine him down to the molecular level.

But it was the delighted smile on the scientist’s face that told him he’d done the right thing. Kuryakin put down his cup, rose from the chair and gracefully walked around the furniture to Catherine. “I am very glad to meet you, Vincent. How very sad that you must hide your existence but thank you for allowing us to help you and . . . others?”

Vincent felt a rush of relief that almost overwhelmed him and he realized it was a combined feeling from both he and Catherine. He nodded shyly. “Yes, our community is one that shuns the world Above as they have shunned us.”

The blond nodded solemnly. “It took great courage to reveal yourself but I’d already begun to suspect that this campaign of biological terror was designed for a very specific population.”

“Too bad you didn’t tell the rest of us.” Solo’s voice was neutral but Vincent heard the note of hurt and Illya must have as well because he went back to his side immediately.

“I’m sorry, Pasha, but it was just a feeling that kept growing and you know how I like to do my research.” He laid a gentle hand on the rigid shoulder and Vincent felt the tension run out of the dark haired agent. “Besides, I was waiting for proof and now we have it. Although, I'm betting that we will have to keep this world a secret?”

Catherine leaned back against him with a sigh and grasped one of his hands in both of hers. “We would appreciate it, Illya. I expect you’ll have to tell Mr. Waverly but he’s someone that even Father could respect.”

“But your father is dead, Catherine.” April had gotten some of her aplomb back.

“True. The leader of the community is known as Father to everyone. His name is Jacob Wells and he rescued Vincent as a baby and raised him.” Catherine collapsed almost thirty years of history to one sentence.

“Well, I wondered why you weren’t dating and I can certainly see why.” April winked at them and moved to the other chair so they’d have a place to sit. 

Catherine tugged him further into the room and Vincent sat uncertainly down on the edge of the sofa. They all sat down and picked up their teacups while Catherine brought out his favorite mug, the one with the big handle. Vincent kept his eyes down since he was uncomfortable with being the target of so many gazes.

“Sorry, Vincent but you’re too beautiful not to expect a glance or two.” April’s surprising statement brought his head back up while Catherine crowed with laughter.

“That’s what I keep telling him, April but he doesn’t believe me.” Her gaze was fondly affectionate and she leaned into his side, warming him with her love.

“Exotic and very beautiful but we need to talk about the danger of the current predicament rather than why you’ve been keeping him under wraps.” April still smiled but her eyes were serious.

“I can think of one very good reason THRUSH would want to get rid of your community, Vincent. Access.” Illya sipped his tea.

“Underground access to UNCLE headquarters.” Solo nodded. “Also, their ‘disappearance’ from known haunts might lead us to think that they were hurt much worse than they really are.”

“They clean out the old tenants and move right in so we don’t see them coming.” April sighed. “Same old thing, retreat and ambush. They never learn.”

“But now we can plan a counter offensive without them realizing their plan has been discovered.” Illya pointed out. “Napoleon is very good at that.”

His partner glared at him. “Not if we have to keep the field of operations secret from our own people.”

“You will find a way, Pasha.” He smiled up at him then back to Vincent. “There is an entrance to the tunnels here, yes?”

“Yes, it’s one of the reasons that Catherine was able to buy this house. A former Helper sold it to her to keep it in the . . . family.” Vincent finally took a sip of his cooling tea.

“Good. Then it will not be odd if we are seen to come and go from here. How soon can you get approval from your father to let the three of us come visit?” Illya finished his tea and leaned back with a sigh.

Vincent and Catherine exchanged a long look. “Resistance will be high but once he knows that I have been . . . accepted . . . by you, he and the council should relent.”

“The planned genocide of his people should be a rather effective bargaining chip.” Solo said dryly. “Call us when you have permission and we’ll return. It’s time we were on our way.”

Vincent nodded and within five minutes he was alone with Catherine, enjoying one of her hugs. It had been a surprising afternoon but he was looking forward to showing Illya his world. The delight he’d been greeted with was something to treasure. He was also looking forward to watching the duel between Father and Solo. Life had suddenly gotten very interesting . . . and even more dangerous.


	5. Demons, part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Napoleon wants to know how Illya sensed Vincent.

Illya settled into the front seat and laid his head back against the headrest. April was practically vibrating in the back seat while Napoleon had gone silent behind the wheel. Without another word, he pulled out into traffic and headed for their brownstone.

“Wow! I knew Catherine was hiding something but he’s so . . . so gorgeous!”

“He’s certainly not your average man.” Illya smiled.

“Is he a man, completely?” Napoleon’s voice was neutral.

“Good question. He could be a spontaneous mutation or a throwback to an earlier time.” Illya considered. “Or someone was ‘experimenting’ and was horrified at the result so he disposed of the evidence.”

“How nasty.” April folded her arms on the back of the seat and rested her chin. “Thank goodness this Father-person rescued him. I don’t care how he was created if he loves Catherine and she loves him then we’ll just have to deal with it.”

Illya smiled to himself. “True love triumphs?”

April snickered. “Of course it does. Look at you and Napoleon.”

Napoleon was surprised into a snort of laughter and Illya watched him relax. “I can see that the next few days are going to be interesting.”

When they pulled up to April’s apartment building, she hopped out and leaned in Illya’s window. “We’re going to have to keep this quiet until you can talk to Uncle Alex. Let me know if you need me. Napoleon, take Illya home to bed. He looks all tired out.”

Illya tried to look indignant but he was aching all over and she patted his arm before heading indoors. Napoleon just nodded and pulled back out into traffic. Illya was content to watch him drive, his profile clear and etched against the passing traffic. His ears were tucked neatly against his head and Illya had a sudden urge to taste them. Perhaps he would outline them with a finger first. Then he’d follow the outer rim with his tongue and taste the earlobe.

Maybe he’d nibble there for a moment. Then he’d have to inspect the ear on the other side for comparison purposes.

“Illya,” Napoleon’s hand waved in front of his face. “What are you concentrating on so hard?”

He smiled and opened the door onto the sidewalk. “I’ll show you later. What are we eating for dinner?”

Napoleon joined him on the steps. “I’m not very hungry. How about soup and crackers? Some of my stew is still frozen and we could heat it up.”

“I agree.” Illya headed for the kitchen to rummage in the freezer. 

They worked together to fix a meal using the new microwave that Mark had insisted on getting. Illya admitted to himself that it came in very handy on nights like tonight. His headache was partially satisfied by food and Napoleon chided him for not eating enough lunch. They loaded the dishwasher and headed upstairs to clean up.

Their shower was cleansing but not playful and Illya watched the little wrinkle between Napoleon’s eyes deepen while they toweled off and headed into what had become their bedroom. Illya eschewed any pajamas and crawled between the sheets with a sigh of relief. He’d taken two aspirin in the bathroom and he hoped they would take away the last of the headache.

“I’m going to go read the mail, Illya. I’ll be up later.” Napoleon had put on jeans and a polo shirt. He tested Illya’s forehead with the back of his hand and smiled. “No fever. Rest now so we can play later.”

Illya caught his hand and tugged him down. “I love you, Pasha. Tell me what has you so bothered?”

The wrinkle came back and Napoleon shook his head. “Later, when I’ve sorted out my feelings. I love you, too.”

They kissed gently and Illya dozed off. Whatever was bothering him, he’d deal with later.

***** 

Illya awoke at the sounds of Napoleon undressing. He enjoyed watching his lover remove his outer layers. He was always so precise with each piece of clothing. First, his shirt was pulled over his head, turned inside out and thrown in the hamper. Then the jeans were folded in thirds and placed in the dresser drawer. His underwear went straight into the hamper and finally he was revealed in all his glory.

“I love watching you do that.” He rolled onto his right side and watched his lover cross the room to slide in beside him. “Now, tell me what is wrong.”

Napoleon leaned in and kissed him gently then pulled away to lay flat, one arm behind his head. “How did you know he was there and how long had he been watching?”

With a sigh, Illya realized that he should have seen this coming. It was an ability from his past that he’d simply come to accept over time. “When I was a child, I learned quickly the price of survival was eternal vigilance. Only when I was with Sergei, was it safe to let down my guard. Through that first long winter while I came to understand that I was never going home again, I found my senses expanding.”

He hesitated. This was harder than he’d thought it would be. But with a quick movement, Napoleon was holding him close and stroking his hair. “Please, Illyusha, I need to know.”

Illya burrowed his head into the convenient shoulder. “There were ghosts in the gulag. Those who’d died badly and whose hate was keeping them there. Others were simply waiting for a loved one to join them. I could feel them with that part of myself that was spirit. I stayed away from the angry ones but those who waited would warn me when there was danger. Not even the University and all those science classes could take that sense from me.”

“Your sixth sense that has saved our lives over and over. Switzerland.” Napoleon brushed a kiss over his temple. “But Vincent is mortal, isn’t he?”

“Yes, I thought I’d grown out of it but the chalet reminded me with a vengeance. And Vincent is close to the spirit realm somehow. There is one who watches over him. Perhaps it is his mother; I do not think he would have been abandoned if she were still alive.” Illya raised his head and watched the familiar half smile cross Napoleon’s face. “Vincent was there when we arrived and he saw us kiss. But of all the people who know about us, he is one who knows prejudice first hand.”

“Do you think he and Catherine are lovers?” Napoleon had completely relaxed now and Illya kissed him tenderly.

“Perhaps. Unconsummated as yet, I think. I expect that she is pushing ahead while he is being very, very careful and holding back. I doubt this father of his is for their relationship but Catherine is a very determined woman so I think she will win this battle. Eventually.”

“Good luck to her. The claws and fangs would be a bit of a turn-off for me but who knows what a woman thinks.” Napoleon smirked at him and Illya attacked with tickling fingers until they were both laughing.

From on top of his lover, Illya was struck once again by his great good luck. “I love you, Pasha. Make love to me.”

Napoleon rolled them into the reverse position. “I love you too, Illyusha. I’m going to make you scream.”

“Well, you can try.” Illya teased him.

Napoleon chuckled and moved down his body stimulating every hot spot that Illya knew of and a few he didn’t. By the time he got down to his cock, Illya was overheating and moaning. It felt so freeing to be able to make noise while he made love and not have to hide his passion.

“Pasha!” He writhed under the maddeningly agile tongue that bathed him from top to bottom.

“You taste so good, my Illyusha. May I have this?” Dark eyes gazed up at him and made his heart beat faster.

“You can have any part of me that you wish.” Illya wondered what was going through his partner’s fascinating mind.

“Thank you.” Napoleon leaned up to gently lave his sensitive nipples and Illya had to hold on to the sheets at the feeling of liquid fire that streaked through his body. 

His eyes closed and his head tossed back and forth on the pillow. Then Napoleon’s hand was wrapped around his cock as well and between the two sensations, he was about ready to go mad. Only to suddenly feel something tight and hot around his cock. It felt like Napoleon’s leather gloves but different and he opened his eyes in time to see his lover sit down flat against his hips.

“Pasha.” A whisper was all he could manage.

“I love you, Illya. All of you with all of me. Does it feel all right?”

Illya didn’t know what to say. It felt wonderful . . . and dangerous . . . and so very, very good. “What about you? You didn’t prepare.”

“Yes, I did, before I came back in to the bedroom.” Napoleon slid his hands up Illya’s chest to run small circles around his peaking nipples and he flexed his inner muscles around Illya’s cock.

Illya slid his hands up the long arms and tugged his lover down to his lips. They kissed briefly before Napoleon began to rock up and down on the cock impaling him. “You feel good inside of me, Illyusha. I’m going to want you in there all the time. Taking me with your strength and tenderness.”

“I love you, Pasha. Am I doing this right?”

“Does it feel good?” Napoleon asked and waited for Illya’s nod. “Then you’re doing it right. Ready to move, lover?”

Illya nodded and tentatively thrust up just a little, surprising Napoleon into a little chuckle. Then he used his thigh muscles to pull almost all the way off before slamming back down and they began the slow dance that Illya had never thought to experience. The inner muscles massaged him until he was burning with the heat and thrusting up with every downward pass.

At some point, Napoleon and he had joined hands and were quickening the pace until Illya could no longer feel separate from his lover but one with the man who’d opened his heart. The burn was continuous now and he aimed for the spot that made Napoleon pant each time he hit it. 

And that was finally what brought them release. Napoleon froze with Illya’s name on his lips and began to pulse out strings of white onto his chest. But Illya was being racked with his own spasms, pulled from him with each inner contraction. He’d never felt anything like it before and when Napoleon slowly fell forward; he caught him close with arms that trembled.

He held him tight and wished for the words to thank the man who held his heart but language appeared to have deserted him. All he could do was rub soothing circles onto the heaving back and mourn the loss of heat when he slipped free. The room seemed cooler to him and he tried to pull up the sheet over Napoleon’s back to keep him from getting chilled.

“Wow.” Napoleon’s whisper sounded right by his ear. “I’m probably smothering you but I don’t think I can move.”

“Wow is a gross understatement, Pasha.” Illya kissed a convenient ear. “Why now, Pasha? Why gift me with your body now?”

“We need another shower, Illyusha. Come with me?” He rolled slowly off and his eyes didn’t meet Illya’s.

“Certainly. I may need you to hold me up.” Illya thought he might know why his lover was being so contrary. He took the offered hand and let it pull him up. “And I will want to check to be sure I wasn’t too rough.”

“You weren’t, love.” Napoleon tugged him into the bathroom and the shower without another word. They lathered away their passion and Illya checked the slightly reddened opening with relief. While they were toweling off, he ventured his own analysis to his lover’s back.

“He’s exotic with a very sexy voice and I am intrigued with how he came to be, but he is possibly a friend . . . never a lover. He could never hold my heart in his hands."

Napoleon froze then turned slowly. “I could see an almost instant connection between you. I know that I’m nowhere close to your intellectual level but he could fascinate you away from me.”

Illya smiled affectionately at his suddenly diffident lover. “Not possible, Pasha. I love you and while I might be fascinated by another, it could never be more than an academic interest. You complete me in ways I never knew existed before you. You hold my heart in your hands and I am content that you will never let me go.”

Napoleon dropped his towel and pulled Illya into his arms. “I’ve never been jealous before and I dislike the feeling. Is it okay with you if I don’t do that again?”

Illya snickered into Napoleon’s neck. “Does that mean I can’t ever fuck you again?”

“Illya! I’m shocked at your language.” Napoleon’s voice was perfect but his whole body was shaking with the tiny tremors of near-laughter. “And no . . . it doesn’t mean you never get to slide inside of me and love me right into tomorrow. In fact, you may have to do it regularly from now on. It felt so very, very good.”

“Ah, I thought it might since it felt so good from my side. Perhaps you might be willing to show me just how wonderful it is?” Illya smiled into brown eyes and for the first time in his life, he knew he really would enjoy it.

“Well, ours is an equal opportunity partnership.” Napoleon smiled tenderly and led him back into their bedroom. “I expect you’ll be able to talk me into it. Eventually.”

Illya laughed out loud and let Napoleon tumble him into bed. It looked like several investigations were going to be ongoing in their lives. And this one was going to be the most fun. Wrapped in his lover’s arms, Illya made a fervent vow to make enough room in his life for lovemaking while ensuring the underground tunnels stayed safe for all its citizens. 

Including the intriguing Vincent and his Catherine. 

THRUSH didn’t stand a chance against the forces of true love.


	6. Demons, part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their trip Below is quite illuminating.

The Tunnels were quite amazing but then so were its unique denizens. Illya rested on top a stool by a table laden with maps. Vincent was tracing a route that they used to reach the south side of the city. His attention at the moment was on the nail that extended slightly from the finger before him, not quite a claw but much harder and narrower than his own. He wondered if he had to clip them often or perhaps used a steel file to blunt them.

“Illya?” The leonine head tilted questioningly towards him.

“Sorry, Vincent, I got distracted. May I ask you a personal question?” Blue eyes met blue for a moment before Vincent nodded. “Thank you. Did Mr. Wells ever search for your mother after he found you?”

“The winter was a severe one and just staying alive took most of our people’s time and energy. But some of those more comfortable with the outer world did inquire at the hospital about births . . . and deaths. Nothing was ever discovered. I am afraid that Twelfth Night that year was a time of mystery.” The slight shrug of the massive shoulders told Illya more than anything else of how accepting the gentle man was of the unknown past.

“Do you want to know or is the past simply that – the past?” Illya could see the slight shimmer of blue over Vincent’s left shoulder that he’d been determinedly not looking directly at. It was the soft blue of morning glories at dawn or the sea on a calm day.

“For myself, I have a slight curiosity but for Catherine’s sake,” he sighed and dropped his eyes to the map unrolled before them. “If Catherine and I are to continue down this frightening path of love, I wish to know that I won’t hurt her even unknowingly.”

Illya smiled and touched lightly the hand before him. “Love is indeed a rather scary notion but one that none of us can live without. I tried, my friend. But it is the pain of not loving that is truly frightening. I thought I was unlovable and Napoleon showed me that I was wrong. If you will give me the date of your birth, I will quietly do some research and present the findings to you.”

Vincent nodded slowly and told him the date. Illya made a mental note and then changed the subject. They were hard at work tracing alternate routes to the docks when Vincent looked up and smiled. A moment later, Catherine and Napoleon entered the map room. The petite blonde came to Vincent’s side instantly just as his partner came to his. Illya wondered if acute hearing was the answer or just a bond so strong that it kept them tethered to each other.

But Napoleon was coming to stand right next to him, invading his personal space and releasing the scent that Illya craved above all others. The husky voice told him that Napoleon was still a little uncertain. “Find out anything?”

“We have just begun but I fear that THRUSH is indeed preparing to move in.” Illya leaned ever so slightly into the arm next to him. “How is Mr. Waverly getting along with Mr. Wells?”

“It was pretty frosty for a while until they discovered that they both love to play chess. When we left them half an hour ago, it looked like the battle lines were being drawn.” He returned the gesture and upped it with a slow licking of his lips.

Illya smiled and let his hand gently tap on the back of Napoleon’s hand, rubbing lightly in concentric circles. “That sounds promising, Pasha. Perhaps then we will not be missed when Vincent takes us on a visit to one of their scenic wonders?”

“The Falls, Vincent?” Catherine asked excitedly and Illya watched her try to squeeze a little more of her lover. “We could take a picnic basket with us. I’ll go ask William.” And in a flash she was off.

Napoleon chuckled. “She has a lot of energy to burn. My congratulations, Vincent.” 

The leonine man blushed and dropped his head just enough to let his hair become a shield for his embarrassment. “Catherine is my greatest blessing.”

Illya leaned harder into his lover’s arm. “Does she have any belief in the paranormal, Vincent?”

The blond head tilted inquiringly. “No, Illya, not even when given proof. Why?”

Napoleon had given in and brought his arm around him completely, rubbing Illya’s upper arm with soothing strokes. Illya sighed a little and opened himself to that other realm that seemed to be his peculiar gift. Impressions of youth and shining beauty overlaid with sadness so great it would have crushed less blithe a spirit, came into his mind. An urgent need to tell him something beat at the walls of his defenses but the match was not there.

He could not bring their minds together like he had with young Willim.

“Illya?” Napoleon’s voice sounded agitated and he came back into the worldly realm with a rush that jarred him.

“Pasha, I’m all right.” Illya opened his eyes and blinked into his partner’s concerned gaze. “I’m just a little dizzy. I think it must be time for lunch.”

Dark eyes told him with just the lift of an eyebrow that he hadn’t been believed. “Then it’s a good thing that Catherine went to get a picnic basket. How far is it to the Falls, Vincent?”

“About half an hour’s walk, Mr. Solo. If the two of you would like to start, you follow the ‘f’ corridors at each junction. I will help Catherine carry down our lunch.” Vincent divided his look between them and Illya could almost see his brain piecing together what had just happened.

“Good idea, Vincent.” Illya slid off the stool and stood swaying a moment before his sense of balance came back. “Let us start, Napoleon.”

“Stubborn.” Napoleon muttered and followed him from the map room, staying close to him and grabbing a lantern from the outer wall to light their way.

Illya kept a close eye on the walls of the tunnel they were in. Manmade not natural and yet they had been fashioned by the people of over a hundred years ago. At the first junction, they studied the chiseled letters and took the left-hand corridor. He noticed the difference at once. Rushing water over a very long space of time had hollowed out this pathway.

The cool air seemed to follow him and he shivered a little even though he was wearing three layers. Napoleon looked at him sharply. “We should have worn another layer or two. I wondered why everybody was so heavily dressed and now I know why.”

“I’m fine, Pasha, just a little chill.” Illya let his hand stray to his partners and sighed at the warmth of Napoleon’s hand.

“It’s just a damn good thing that I’m the hot-blooded one in this partnership.” He chided him gently but kept hold of his hand.

“I thank God for you every day, Pasha.” Illya walked a little closer to him and enjoyed the warm air that seemed to always surround him.

“I do too, Illyusha. Now, are you going to tell me what happened back there?”

Illya sighed. “I tried to mesh with Vincent’s guardian but it didn’t work. And if Catherine doesn’t believe in the supernatural then she won’t be able to either.”

“Damn it, Illya, you need to tell me before you try that.” Napoleon was plainly upset and his grip tightened on the hand in his. “What if something had gone wrong and we couldn’t reach you?”

“I am fine, Pasha. Lunch will replenish any energy I might have lost in my attempt.” Illya returned the squeeze. “Vincent needs to know from whom he came if they are ever to consummate the bond I see shining between them. It’s beautiful to see the golden cords woven so strongly between them. But he will never give into the passion unless he knows that he won’t hurt her.”

“So now we’re advisors to the lovelorn?” Napoleon scowled at him.

Illya just smiled up at him. “Who better than a pair of lovers who also face a disbelieving world?”

The scowl quickly faded to the soft look Illya loved seeing on his lover’s face. It was the one that made him look ridiculously young and at peace with the world around him. The quick hard kiss that followed warmed him all the way down to his toes. Then they were continuing towards the sound that had been on the periphery of their hearing for the last few minutes.

Walking through the opening cut in stone, they entered a fantasy world. The three falls seemed to cascade for miles through the mist filled air. The sound roared in their ears with quiet thunder. Moss covered rocks led up to a stone wall at the edge of what appeared to be a cliff. Illya wasn’t even surprised to find an elderly woman sitting there as if she was waiting for them.

“Hello, Illya, Vincent has spoken of you. My name is Mary.” The Madonna face was lined with the wrinkles of many hard years and yet he thought her tranquility was real and hard-won. 

“Mary, it is a pleasure to meet you.” Illya sat by her side, aware that Napoleon had followed him down. “Have you seen her then, by Vincent’s side?”

“Since I walked him night after night when Jacob first brought him below, I’ve felt her presence near him. I would open myself to her but it was as if an invisible door stood between us and neither of us could open it.” The faded blue eyes searched his. “You are the one.”

Illya nodded. “I can not quite touch her but I can open that door for her to come through if you will allow her to speak with your voice.”

“Yes, those poor two children deserve to know the truth about their love and Vincent’s origins.” Mary nodded decisively. “They’re coming now.”

“Pasha, I need you to loan me your strength when I open myself.” Illya looked into his lover’s eyes and saw the fear there. “I promise that nothing will happen that will hurt any of us. I’ll just be loaning my energy to her.”

“You’re sure?” Napoleon asked before nodding in resignation. “I’ll watch your back.”

“Thank you, Pasha.” Illya leaned in and kissed him tenderly, needing a quick reassurance of his own connections before opening himself to a strange spirit.

Napoleon gave him his strength immediately and with passion that might have grown too fast but for the sounds of Catherine’s laughter. They broke apart slowly and Napoleon made sure that Illya was steady before letting him go. Mary smiled on them and looked up in time to greet the last two of their party.

“Mary, how nice that you’re here.” Catherine smiled happily. “William packed enough food for an army so you can help us eat it all.”

Vincent nodded slowly, his eyes moving between them with questioning eyes. They sat down and began to unpack their lunch. Conversation was general with Mary telling tales from Vincent’s childhood while Catherine hung on every word. After they had eaten and were sitting half-reclined against the stones and each other, Vincent asked the question Illya had been waiting for.

“Why did you ask about Catherine’s belief in the paranormal, Illya?” Those blue eyes were soft as if already in wonder at the answer.

“Ever since we met, Vincent, I’ve seen a shimmer of blue behind your left shoulder. Since my years in the gulag, I have been able to see the . . . others who live beside us.” Illya chose his words carefully knowing what a shock this would be for Catherine. He felt Napoleon giving him his strength right behind him. “I believe it to be your mother who is watching over you. I can not reach her and be her conduit but Mary can and has said that she is willing. Do you want to know?”

This silence was filled with emotion and Illya watched the leonine man he’d been so drawn to, pull into himself. Catherine looked angry and anxious at the same time. But she stayed silent, pressing against him as if to give him her strength. Mary watched them all with her gentle smile and Illya decided that she already knew his answer when she touched his arm and nodded.

“Yes,” the whisper could barely be heard over the roar of the Falls.

Illya nodded once, settling back against Napoleon and holding out his hand to Mary. Closing his eyes, he opened himself, as he hadn’t ever thought to do again. The tingling energy of the falling water felt like fuzzy tendrils bearing him up under the weight of the past that rushed at him. Using the image of a door, he opened it and braced against the weight of memories.

“Ah, me beautiful boy, how I’ve longed to tell you how much I love you.” The lilting Irish tones fell on his ears faintly from the distant space he now inhabited. “Vincent is a fine name though not the one I had picked out. You were Herne’s son from the moment I knew that I was quickening with new life. My miracle child and heart’s promise, I called you when I awoke from our loving alone.”

“Mother?” 

“Eileen O’Shaunessy, little love, that was the name they gave me at my birth. I was the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter so the family always knew that I wasn’t meant for the usual. It was at Beltane in my seventeenth year that I first walked between the worlds. Leaping the fire, I landed in what I suppose you might call a parallel world, Herne’s world, the land of faerie and legend.”

“Parallel universes?” Catherine’s voice wavered between scorn and disbelief.

“She’s a feisty one, Vincent; you’ll need a strong hand with her.” Mary/Eileen chuckled. “She reminds me of meself in some ways. You’ve already met Kristopher, Catherine so you’re aware that more exists than just what you can see and touch. Your children will need both of your best selves. Vincent will give them the touch of fantasy and Catherine will be giving them the knowledge of the world and the way it works. Neither one is more important than the other.” 

“Mother, what happened?” Vincent asked quietly.

“Devil’s work, my son. When me grandfather knew that I carried a child, he shipped me off to this great cold city of yours to stay with my Aunt Bridgett until you were born. She was a great believer in sin, that one and me being unwed meant that I was a sinner in need of shriving. The last four months I carried you inside of me were some of the most miserable in my life. She prayed over me day and night keeping me locked in the back bedroom of her apartment. Father O’Connor was just like her and between the two of them I was like to go crazy.”

Mary/Eileen sighed and wiped away a tear. “When labor started, Aunt Bridgett wouldn’t get a doctor for me for fear he’d know my shame. But when it looked like we might both die, she let the midwife in. I’d been losing blood steadily and had no more strength to push when she finally saw your wee head crowning. With the very last of my will, I felt you slide from me. Aunt Bridgett gasped and fled the room while I whispered to the nice woman who was holding you. She lay you in my arms and you wailed like the banshee was after you. I saw that you were truly Herne’s son and so I named you to her.”

Illya could feel the emotions pouring through the link he was holding open and he trembled with the pain of loss.

“She nodded and I begged her to get you away to a safe place while my aunt was gone. She’d have named you demon’s child if she could and I feared for your life. I already knew that I was dying and wouldn’t be there to protect you from them. She hesitated only a moment before wrapping you in me nightshirt and taking you down the fire escape. Not a moment too soon, either. Me aunt and Father O’Connor burst into the room as if the hounds of hell were at their heels but all they found was me a’lying there almost dead of blood loss.” Mary/Eileen took a deep breath. “It was not your fault, me beautiful son. Nothing you did ever hurt me, ‘twas the primitive conditions and Aunt Bridgett who signed me death warrant. The priest gave me last rites before they left me alone to die.”

Catherine was crying against Vincent’s shoulder and he was weeping slowly, the tears running down his furry cheeks.

“I never gave them a second thought then for me spirit was so light that I felt like dancing around the room. And that’s when he found me after searching long and far. Your father and me only love, Herne, the hunter.”

“Herne? As in the antler headed god from Celtic myth?” Vincent looked a little dazed.

“Aye, the laws in some of the parallel worlds that exist on Earth vary from line to line. When I leaped over the bonfire at Beltane, I leapt into his world. He was a fearsome sight when we first met in his sacred grove but I soon saw into the heart of him and when we loved, he was gentle as could be with me virgin self. But the rules of our worlds gave us only a single night before parting.”

Illya was tiring but he wanted some answers himself and he stirred a bit to draw attention to their current situation. 

“The Gatekeeper is growing tired, children. Know only that Herne came for me while I was dying and in the moment of death, your world’s rules ceased to affect me. Now I am safe and loved in his world. Travel is not quite forbidden for us since the ties of mother and child hold strong no matter when we are. There is great danger coming to the Tunnels. The Gatekeeper will know what to do. Guard him closely, children, for he is the door and he holds the key that will save your world.”

“Know that we love you, Vincent. You were the first of our beloved children and all of your brothers and sisters send you their love, too. We will speak again, little one. I love you.” And the door closed in Illya’s mind while he slumped against Napoleon.

“Illya!” 

He was so cold. He could feel Napoleon holding him tight, frantically frictioning his hands but nothing seemed to be working. Then a thick layer of warmth covered him and he felt Vincent’s hands cradling his head while it felt like the entire power of the Falls rushed through him. His eyes snapped open and met the shining blue gaze of Herne’s son.

“Thank you, Illya. Rest now. We can talk later.” Vincent ordered softly and Illya slipped into a deep sleep, still feeling Napoleon’s hands holding him close.

************** 

He was cradled in strong arms under a heavy weight that spoke of comfort and love. Illya thought back to what he last remembered and his eyes popped open to see Napoleon’s dark head on the same pillow. The arms around him were his and the great weight was what appeared to be five or six quilts. The room was cool but their bed was nice and toasty.

“Illya, how do you feel?” Napoleon’s eyes had popped open and he smiled up into the beloved face.

“I am fine. Whatever it was that Vincent did, worked. I’m tired but no longer drained. How is Mary?” Illya suddenly remembered the gentle woman who’d been Eileen’s voice.

“She’s fine. It didn’t drain her . . . only you.” Napoleon looked stormy.

“It’s because I was holding open the door. I didn’t realize that it wasn’t the simple door between living and dead but the gate between the worlds.” Illya shrugged. “I’ll know next time.”

“There won’t be a next time, Illyusha. Somebody else can take over this job. I don’t want you anywhere near this whole damn thing.” Napoleon was adamant.

“We may not have a choice, Pasha. For better or for worse, I’m the only Gatekeeper we have. And the danger isn’t just for the Tunnel dwellers but for all of us. THRUSH has plans that we need to thwart.” Illya snuggled closer and let his hands wander over Napoleon’s skin.

“Damn. I was afraid that would occur to you.” Napoleon pushed him onto his back and glared down at Illya.

“Make love to me, Pasha. Remind me how lucky we are to love each other.” Illya allowed all of his love to show on his face and he watched Napoleon’s face crumble. “Hush, love, we’ll be all right. I promise that we’ll be just fine.”

And Illya hoped that he was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never wrote anymore and yet there was more in my head back then. Other projects beckoned me on. So for now, you'll have to make up your own ending of true love triumphant!


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